Bad Timing
by Chirugal
Summary: The morning after she confronts him, Abby tries to deal with the change in her relationship with Gibbs... Sequel to 'Bittersweet and Broken', which episode tags Borderland, Patriot Down, Rule Fifty-One and Spider and the Fly. Gibbs/Abby, in progress.
1. Skipping Out

**Title**: Bad Timing  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: _Borderland_ and _Patriot Down_, season seven  
**Summary**: After the events of _Bittersweet and Broken_, Abby tries to deal with the change in her relationship with Gibbs…

**Author's Note**: This takes place the morning after _Borderland_'s final scene - I've already tagged the night from Gibbs' POV in _Bittersweet and Broken_, so reading that first would help. As the fic goes on, I'll be tagging Patriot Down.

* * *

My head aches a little, and I burrow my head under the blanket with a sigh, protecting my eyes from the morning sun that tries to burn through the thin skin of my eyelids. Was I drinking last night? How much?

Then I register two details at once. Fact number one: it's not just my head that aches; my entire body feels as though I've been having really rough sex all night; painful and satisfied all at once.

Fact number two: this blanket smells like Gibbs.

Oh my god; I had sex with Gibbs. I had _sex…_ with _Gibbs_. And cried a lot. That's why I have a headache; I'm dehydrated. But that's not important right now.

I had sex with Gibbs. Heartbreaking, frustrated, helplessly passionate sex, with scratching and biting and bruising and gasps and moans and god, Abby, stop wriggling or he's gonna wake up…

Is he even in the bed with me? It feels warm and cosy, like there's someone here with me, but we're not touching, if he is. Do I dare turn over? If he's awake, what do I say? What if he regrets it?

Do _I_ regret it?

No, I don't. I could never regret it; not with Gibbs, not even now I know he killed Hernandez. And he was good... better than good, the second time, once we actually got to the bedroom and he-

But my evidence report… God, what do I do? Talk about bad timing; it was hard enough before, when I thought all he felt for me was fatherly affection. But now… I have to choose between turning him in, and maybe losing him forever, or falsifying evidence.

I don't know how I can bring myself to do either of those things. I just…

Don't think about it now. Concentrate on the situation. I'm in Gibbs' bed. Is he there? He can't be, right? I'd be able to hear him breathing.

Sneaking my head out of the blankets again, I turn it without moving the rest of my body, hoping to catch a glimpse of his side of the bed without tipping him off.

Oh my god, he's there. Even when he's asleep, he's stealthy. What do I do? What if he's awake?

Come on, calm down. He's Gibbs. And I'm his favourite. What's he gonna do, kill me?

Ouch. Bad choice of thoughts.

I turn over, onto my back, with as little movement as possible. Now I can see his face, it's obvious that he's sleeping; I've never seen him this peaceful.

Watching him, I just want to curl up closer to him, and feel his arms around me. And not just in a sexy way; I need the comfort he can always give me without saying a word. But I can't make myself commit to it; I'm too scared of what his reaction will be.

The blanket's slipped down to his stomach, and I can see the scratches and bruises my fingers have left on his shoulders and arms. As if in sympathy, my own injuries throb gently, and I bite my lip, knowing he'll be in pain when he wakes up.

Oops.

Wait, is he naked under there? Am I naked? Are _we_-?

Slamming down on the inappropriate thoughts, I shift my weight a little, checking for the resistance of clothing. Nothing hinders my movement but the blanket, and I feel my pulse begin a steady, insistent beat between my thighs, wondering what he'd do if I kissed him into wakefulness, reached down between us and caressed him until he was hard, and then…

He stirs a little in his sleep, and my heart skips in irrational terror. He's Gibbs, and I trust him more than anyone else, but he's been divorced three times, and I could ruin his life with my forensic report, and what if he kicks me out of bed and tells me to leave?

Okay, if we're gonna have this conversation, I need to get some clothes on. Which means I should move now, before he wakes up.

Gingerly, I slide out from beneath the covers, careful not to pull them away from Gibbs. After a moment's hesitation to make sure he doesn't stir, I look around for my clothes, finding them mingled with Gibbs' a couple of feet from the bed. Extricating my panties from under Gibbs' shirt, I start to dress.

Once I'm fully clothed, I put on my boots for good measure, and then gaze over at Gibbs, surprised at how deeply he's sleeping. He's not faking it; I could tell if he was. But somehow I thought he'd be a light sleeper, wary of being crept up on in the night.

Then again, he did have a pretty emotional day yesterday. First seeing Hernandez on Ducky's table, then realising that I knew the truth, then afterward… I can't blame him for sleeping like the dead.

Why did I get dressed? Now when he wakes up he's gonna feel like he's at a disadvantage, because he's naked and I'm not. But what else could I do? Pretend I don't need to ruin his life for giving Hernandez what he deserved?

I should have kissed him awake. But it's too late now. I can't stay here like this. And he… he never answered my question last night. Not properly. He never told me if he'd love me, no matter what I did.

He didn't ask me what I was gonna do, or tell me what he wanted me to do with this horrible secret I stumbled upon.

And now, I don't know what to do.

For a couple of minutes, I resist the urge to pace, keeping my turmoil internal so I don't wake Gibbs. I could make him coffee, or breakfast, or something… but I'm so skittish that I'd probably burn his house down in the process.

I can't just stand here staring at him like a creepy stalker, though! I need to… god. Am I really gonna skip out on Gibbs before he wakes up? On _Gibbs_? The one man I want more than any other?

_What do you want me to say?_

Remembering his defensive words makes me flinch, and the urge to run only gets stronger. I give in to it, stopping only for long enough to kiss his shoulder lightly. Feeling his skin against my lips does things to me that I really shouldn't be thinking about right now, but he sighs and pulls the bedcovers up over his body in response, and I flee down the stairs before he can fully wake up.

I'm halfway to the door before I realise my satchel's still in the basement. Damnit! I can't get caught running now; it'll only make things worse. Just get down there, grab the bag and go!

Descending to the basement brings back memories I shouldn't be dwelling on. He took me here, against the wall, hard and deep and fast and god, I never felt so… Focus, Abby!

I pick up the satchel and get to the top of the stairs just as a floorboard creaks in the bedroom above. He's awake! And I can't believe I'm running from him, but… I need to process this.

Leaving the house as quietly as I can, I half-run to my car, parked out on the street. There's no traffic this early in the morning, and fifteen minutes later, I'm home.

Moving into my bedroom on autopilot, I strip off last night's clothing, catching a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Wait… Looking closer, last night's damage is plain to see, from the finger-shaped bruises on my hips and butt to the hickey on my neck and the slight abrasion marks on my back where he slammed me against the wall as he took me.

Over, and over, and over…

Frustrated in every possible way, I fling my shirt at my reflection and stalk toward the shower, hoping the hot water will clear my head and relax me a little.

It doesn't work. I mean, I just skipped out on Gibbs. _Gibbs!_ I don't even know how he's gonna react to that. Or how I can justify it. And what the heck do I do about the Mexico case?

I guess I was right last night. I don't know anything any more.

* * *

**More to come...**


	2. Angsting Alone

**Author's Note**: After the amazing Gabby!nuzzle of the season finale, I can confirm that this fic will be going through Patriot Down and right through to Rule Fifty-One! *dies of squee* This is still pre-Patriot Down, though. Thanks for the comments so far!

* * *

**Gibbs**

It's been a long time since I've taken a woman to bed and woken up alone. Usually, I'm the one to bail out before morning; not that I would on Abby.

The fact that she's gone bugs me more than it should. Under the circumstances, it makes sense, as far as it can. Just because she knows the way I feel about her – reciprocates, even – doesn't mean I didn't kill Hernandez.

Didn't murder him. In cold blood.

Her words are accurate, and she knows it. I haven't spent one second regretting my actions back then, and I wouldn't go back and change it if I could. What I don't know is how Abby – whose sense of justice is deeply ingrained – can come to terms with what I've done. And what _we've_ done.

I stare at the ceiling for a while, breathing in her scent, which lingers on the pillow, on the bedcovers, on my skin. The rules I've made over the years are there for a reason, and the twelfth is less specific in my head than when I recite it to my team. _Never date a co-worker_ is just a part of it; _never sleep with a co-worker_ is implicit.

But last night, we flouted that rule with complete abandon. Twice. And that's another thing I'll never regret, even if Abby does.

As I sit up, pain flares through my skin, and I take stock of the bruises, bite-marks and scratches Abby marked me with last night. I don't mind the reminders; though they were inflicted in frustration and pain, they're proof that our night together happened.

It makes me wonder, though, how badly I bruised her in return.

Ahh, hell. No wonder she skipped out on me.

* * *

My cell rings just as I'm done sweeping up the debris left over from my latest completed project; the chair I was working on when Abby arrived. I stare down at her name on the caller ID, simultaneously glad she's not avoiding me and dreading the conversation we'll have to have at some point.

I stall for too long. Just as I begin to hit the button to answer, the phone goes silent, instead flashing up a message that I've missed a call.

I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed.

Putting off the decision as to whether or not I should return the call, I head upstairs to put on some coffee. As I flip the switch, the phone sounds an alert, telling me that I have a voicemail.

"Hey, Gibbs." Abby's voice is slow and a little hesitant. "Guess you're not around. I'm just… calling to apologise for running out on you this morning, I guess. I should have written you a note or something, but you were waking up and I needed…"

She trails off, sighs, and when she speaks again, there's an edge to her tone. "I'm not gonna sit here and talk to your voicemail. Call me when you get this, okay? Bye."

I set down the cell, my gut twisting. There are too many unanswered questions between us, and I get the feeling I'm not gonna like all the answers. With Abby's report deadline looming, I might not have long until I'm in custody, unable to protect her from Bell, or Hart, or whoever's orchestrated it so that the one person I care about the most has found out the truth.

I need to start looking into who, and why, and worry about the repercussions of last night later.

* * *

**Abby**

It's midnight, and I'm still no closer to figuring out what to do about my report. And Gibbs? I haven't heard from him, even though I left him a voicemail earlier.

God, I made a screwed up situation a hundred times worse by forcing him to admit he wants me. I've known Gibbs for ten years, and in all that time, the only time he's ever avoided me is when he went off the grid to meet Maddie Tyler's kidnappers. And that time, Tony ended up having to save him from a sinking car and give him CPR…

Okay, stop panicking. This is nothing like that. The only person whose ass is on the line here is Gibbs', and if whoever's behind that was planning to kill him, they wouldn't have needed me to find out about Hernandez.

So he's not in danger. He just doesn't want to talk to me.

I'm not gonna call him again. I know how this dance goes… I call, he ignores it, I leave twenty more messages on his cell and then maybe he'll get around to it. I never thought he'd be this way, but everyone at the Navy Yard knows about his history with women.

I guess I just thought it'd be different with me, but what makes me so special? I've loved him for years, but for all he knows, I just have a little bit of a crush. Never mind that I've spent all day alternating between amazing highs, remembering his touch, and terrifying lows, knowing that he might be in custody by the end of the week. That I might be putting him there.

Sighing, I refill my wine glass and scowl out of the window at a couple passing by out on the street. Today really sucks… wait.

Is that _Gibbs'_ car pulling up down there?


	3. Surrender

**Author's Note**: Because I just couldn't resist more smut before my interpretation of _Patriot Down... _Plot? What plot? :p Thank you for reading, as always.

* * *

My heart begins to beat triple-time as the driver's door opens. Of course it's him; who else would be showing up outside my building in a yellow Challenger at midnight? But what do I say to him? And why didn't he just call me?

Anticipation and apprehension twisting together to form a lump in my throat, I jump up to clear away the junk food debris around me. Gibbs knows I eat way too much candy when I'm depressed, but he doesn't need to see the evidence. Bad enough that I'm curled up in my pyjamas and robe, drinking alone on the couch.

I wait for him to buzz up to the apartment, but it doesn't happen. I'm just starting to think that maybe he changed his mind and left when there's a distinctive knock at my door.

Okay. I can do this.

When I pull open the door, he doesn't say anything. And for a moment, I can't speak. The look on his face is just…

"Gibbs. Hi." This is even more awkward than I thought it would be.

He steps forward, and I step back to let him in, moving instinctively. He shuts the door to the apartment behind him, while I wait for him to say something… anything.

We stare at each other, and I don't know what he sees in my face, but his expression seems to soften, just a little. There's something hollow about the way he looks; hollow, but at the same time, there's a heat to his gaze that sends an answering rush through my body.

I should be speaking; should be asking what he's doing here. But then he takes a step forward, closing the gap between us, and his hands are on my waist, so lightly that I can hardly feel them through my bathrobe.

My pulse skips, then begins a warm, insistent beat between my thighs. His scent triggers memories of last night: the taste of his skin, the sensation of his fingers against my nipples, the sound of his uneven breathing against my neck…

I fix my eyes on his neck so I don't have to meet that stare of his. "We should talk."

I see his Adam's apple shift under the skin of his throat as he swallows, but he keeps his silence, his fingers slowly unfastening my robe. When he slides his warm hands over my waist, underneath my shirt, the only thing I can do is lean in closer, my breath escaping in a soundless moan.

His eyes drop to my lips, and I close my eyes against the unbearable tension of the moment, hyperaware of everything, and yet drifting at the same time. "Gibbs," I murmur, a last effort to get him to talk to me.

He ignores it, cupping my cheek with his hand. I lean into the touch before I can stop myself, allowing him to tilt my face up for his kiss. His lips are gentle, such a contrast to last night, and I don't know whether to rejoice or to worry that he's kissing me goodbye.

Just as I begin to relax into it, he pulls away, and I try to order my thoughts, confused, but so fucking turned on at the same time… I open my eyes to find him watching me with that heartbreaking expression, like he's waiting for permission to continue. As if he needed it. As if he'll _ever_ need it.

I lean in to kiss him, and something inside me snaps. Talking can wait. I don't care. I don't care what's coming tomorrow; I just need the hedonistic distractions of right now, in this moment; him, and me, and everything words can't express.

Last night, I was too frustrated to worry about technique, but now I use all the finesse I can, flicking my tongue teasingly against his and nibbling his lower lip when I can. When he pushes my robe off my shoulders, his arms encircling me and pulling my body against his, I press my lips against his neck, sprinkling soft kisses over his skin.

Gibbs inhales slowly and deeply, his nose buried in my hair. I nuzzle his shoulder, memorising everything I can about this moment, praying it won't end. And when his fingers tug at the hem of my shirt, I draw back to let him pull it off, feeling a little self-conscious.

His fingers brush lightly over my skin, finding last night's marks, and his concern is clear. I let him spin me so he can look at the grazes on my back, and a shiver ripples down my spine as he trails gentle kisses over the injured area.

I find enough composure to formulate words, though they emerge in a whisper. "I didn't leave because of that."

He tenses slightly, and I can tell he's not totally convinced. Looking over my shoulder, I reassure him. "Really."

With a slight nod, he presses his palms against my belly, pulling me back against his body. I rest my head back against his shoulder and my hands over his, savouring the tingling warmth suffusing me. His thumbs trace tiny circles over my abdomen, and I wriggle back against him with a breathy whimper.

My pyjama pants join the rest of my clothing: heaped at our feet, pushed over my hips by his fingertips. Naked and overheated, I turn in his arms, and he lifts me effortlessly, arms tightening around me as I wrap my legs around him.

Within twenty seconds, he's lowered me onto my bed, and I reach out for him, pulling off his shirt and wincing anew at the sight of the wounds I left behind last night. I kiss my way across his scratched upper arm, a silent apology, and he trails equally soft kisses down my neck, past the bite mark at the top of my left breast to tease my nipple with his tongue.

His hands wander lower, and soon all I can do is lie back and enjoy his efforts, riding on a slowly building wave of pleasure. His touch is almost too light, his tongue unhurried as it dips into my navel, then dances across my inner thigh…

When he presses a kiss against my clit, I moan encouragement, my fingers in his hair, my hips tilting instinctively to give him better access. I lose track of time, whimpering, gasping, begging for release; twisting, writhing, trembling…

By the time Gibbs relents enough to give me what I need, I'm half-sobbing with frustration, and I cry out way too loud as the tension crests and then deliciously ebbs away.

Gibbs kisses my thigh, watching me with affectionate intensity, and I reach for him, encouraging him to stretch out beside me, tracing circles on his bare chest with a fingertip. He strokes my hair back from my face, his erection pressing against my hip, and as I regain my ability to think straight, I grin wickedly at him, rubbing lightly with the palm of my hand.

He closes his eyes, pressing into my hand, and it feels like a surrender. I work my way down his body, my lips learning every curve, every war wound, every hard muscle and vulnerable patch of skin. Reaching his waist, I strip off his pants and begin again, watching his jaw tighten against a groan as I take him into my mouth for the first time.

I'm satisfied for now, so I take my time, pouring all my energy into pleasing him. He murmurs my name, his hand resting atop my head, and I resist the urge to sit up and comment on it. _Made you speak…_

Instead, I concentrate all my efforts on nudging him toward the edge, motion by motion, savouring every sigh and movement he makes. He grabs a fistful of the bedcovers, and I hum appreciation of the sight, which only makes it more intense for him. Just a little more, and…

He tugs my hair, a signal to stop, and gathers me into his arms with a breathless kiss; and another, and another. I reach down between us and guide him inside me, and he pushes deeper, drawing a purr from my throat.

There's no pain this time – no scratches, no bruising grips, no teeth marks or scrapes. Just us, arching together over and over, slick flesh and sighed curses and urgent kisses that give way to gasps. No tears, no guilt, no fear… Those things belong in the past and the future, but right now, there's just him and me; friction and heat in all the right places, driving us further and further out of our minds.

He stifles his cry against my neck as he comes, tightening his arms around me as if I might disappear. In the ripples of afterglow, I open my eyes to watch him calm down, smiling a little when he catches me looking.

Gibbs kisses me gently, pulling the covers up over us when I cool down enough to shiver. I burrow down, feeling safer and more content than I have in years, my head on his chest and my body held securely against his.

Lulled by the sound of his breathing, I drift off toward sleep.

* * *

I wake alone, the covers carefully tucked around me and the sound of a car engine dwindling into the distance.

Payback's a callous bitch.


	4. Not Pleasure

**Author's Note**: Thank you so much for the continued comments. I'm dealing with the scenes from _Patriot Down_ now - Gibbs' section's dialogue is 100% taken from the episide - i.e. it's not mine. All interpretations and inner reflections are, though. ;)

* * *

**Abby**

I spent the whole of yesterday studying the report I've compiled for the Mexican taskforce, trying to find some loophole, some way to implicate someone else for the murder of Pedro Hernandez. Without the bullet that woman tossed at me out at Hernandez's truck, I could have pleaded inconclusive evidence. But she did, and there's nothing I can do about it.

And now it's Monday. There's a conference call scheduled for later on today between the Director, Alejandro and me. I'm gonna have to give my report to that smug, conniving Hart woman. And she'll give it to Alejandro, and Alejandro will tell Leon, and then Leon will go to Gibbs…

Could I ask Alejandro to cover it up? I mean, it was only a few days ago that we were flirting, here in my lab. I'd made peace with the idea that Gibbs would never want me years ago, and Alejandro was a real possibility for a fling, if McGee hadn't been sent along with me to Mexico.

I didn't say anything to put him off the idea that something might happen between us. Maybe I could persuade him to just forget the case ever got re-opened.

Persuade him, how? Sexual favours? I don't _want_ him any more. I want Gibbs; only Gibbs.

I can't do it, can't implicate him. Well, I _can_, technically speaking. I can physically hand over my report the way it is. What I mean is, I _won't_. Gibbs can't kiss my cheek through a security grille in the visiting booths at Leavenworth. I won't be able to hug him. Or anything else I want to do. Assuming he'd want it, too. Which I don't even know if–

"Hey, Abby."

Startled, I look around to find Tony in the doorway, a box piled high with evidence bags on the floor behind him.

"Hey! Sorry, I was… thinking. How was-?" I stop as I register the grim look on his face. Tony only gets that look when something's really wrong, and my heart stutters in panic for a second. "What happened?"

"We lost an agent."

_Gibbs?_

I must have gone paler than usual, cause Tony's eyes widen, and he puts up his hands to placate me. "Not one of our team. Gibbs, McGee, Ziva… they're all fine."

I let out the breath I didn't realise I was holding. "Then, who?"

"Special Agent Lara Macy."

I never met her, but I know the name. When Gibbs and McGee came back from LA last year, Gibbs mentioned something in passing about them going way back. _Oh, Gibbs…_

"That's awful. I mean, I never really spoke to her, but… Wow. Harsh." Tony accepts the brief hug I give him, and then starts to fill me in. Special Agent Macy's body was found burned – someone trying to hide the evidence. Ducky's about to start the autopsy, so he'll have blood and tissue samples for me soon. And I'd better get to work.

I watch Tony leave, then turn to the box of evidence he left behind and pull on a pair of latex gloves. At least this'll be a distraction. Kinda.

* * *

**Gibbs**

Lara Macy's death has given me something besides my relationship with Abby to obsess about, but it's not a welcome distraction. Bell is behind this; my gut is churning. The one active agent who knew the truth about Hernandez's murder has turned up dead, and the timing is far too convenient to be coincidental.

The last thing I want to do right now is talk to Abby, but she has information I need.

"What do you got?" I fire the question at her before she has time to register I'm there.

Her lab coat's buttoned and her pigtails are plaited; she looks closed off, defensive. She doesn't smile as she replies. "Questions. For you."

_Goddamnit, Abbs…_ "Case first."

"Okay." Abby crosses to the table, looking down at the bags scattered across it. "Ummm… People only travel for two reasons – business, or pleasure."

_Pleasure._ The word I least needed to hear from her lips right now. I can't deny that Saturday night was full of it, and that a lot of it was caused by those very same lips. But that's the last thing I need to be concentrating on.

Abby rushes on before I can react. "If Agent Macy was travelling for pleasure, then why didn't she stay at her mom's house in Maryland? Instead, she checked into an impersonal motel, and everything they collected from her room is work-related, so…"

I focus my mind on her words, piecing together the picture. "Work-related items. Work-related visit."

"It's her NCIS laptop. That's her work cell phone," she adds, as I pick up its bag from the table.

"Last call?"

"It's incoming from early last evening, from a store-bought disposable. I'm trying to track it now," she says quietly, her eyes intent on my face. I don't meet them, and she keeps on track. "What's really interesting is the five calls Agent Macy made in the last three days; all to a Petty Officer Kaylen Burrows."

Could Macy have told this Burrows something that could endanger her? "Pull the file," I order.

A slight spark of irritation crosses her face. "I already did."

I don't have time to deal with her pique. Putting the phone back where I found it, I cross to Abby's computer, looking over the service record that's already up on-screen. After a second's hesitation, Abby joins me.

"Burrows is currently stationed on the _USS Majestic_. It's been docked outside Marseilles until a few weeks ago, and then made port in Norfolk at the same time that Agent Macy did."

No coincidence. "Agent Macy followed Burrows back to the States. Business."

"Not pleasure," Abby agrees flatly.

She steps into my path as I try to get past her, her arms crossed protectively over her stomach. She's afraid of my reaction, and I hate hurting her, but I don't have time to stand around discussing where our relationship is going right now.

"Gibbs…" The way she says my name always gets to me. "Speaking of business, we need to talk. About… stuff. And things."

"Not now, Abbs."

She nods; tries to shrug it off, her head rising slightly with defensive pride. "Okay."

The obvious question hangs in the air between us: _Then, when?_ I don't know when; all I do know is that the jaws of a trap are tightening around me, and I need to figure out how far Bell's influence stretches.

So I walk out… and straight into Allison Hart. Today is really _not_ my day. Any flirtation I might have been considering to get her to spill what she knows… that came off the cards the second Abby kissed me.

If she calls me 'Mr. Gibbs', I swear to god, I'll…

"Hello, Mr. Gibbs."

_Ah, hell…_


	5. Overwhelmed

**Author's Note**: Here's a teeny chapter... mainly so short because I'm not 100% where I'm going with this. I have three options, which I will list at the end of the chapter. And I'm not sure which way I'm going to go. Advice that bears in mind the nuances and characterisation of the third Gabby scene of _Patriot Down_ - the lockdown scene - would be appreciated...

* * *

**Abby**

I didn't see Gibbs for the rest of the day, and he didn't contact me or come over last night. And now it's Tuesday, I have Alejandro breathing down my neck for that report, and I've hardly slept. Tony seems to have temporarily taken Gibbs' place as my Caf-Pow! supplier, thank god – I don't know how I'd get through today without it.

Gibbs visits me to discuss Petty Officer Burrows' rape kit, but he doesn't make any reference to the fact that I want to talk to him. After he brushed me off yesterday, I tried to give him some space, but as he starts to walk out without even thanking me for agreeing to run the test he wants, my resolve breaks.

"Gibbs."

He turns, and I say his name again, making completely sure I have his attention. "Gibbs, look. I know that Special Agent Macy's murder is super important, and I know that you guys have a long history together, going back to when you were a Marine, and not a lot of people know that, but Gibbs… we really need to talk about Mexico."

His expression goes from expectant to impatient as I speak, and then something else. Distant, as if he's not even in the room any more.

"What d'you just say?"

This case is really doing something to him. I'm worried about him, but I can't put this off, not with Alejandro waiting for my report. "I said, we need to talk about Mexico."

For a second, he remains where he is, frozen in place, his mind someplace I can't go. And then, abruptly, he turns and walks out, leaving me hurt and confused and no closer to a resolution than I was five minutes ago.

If this is how it's gonna be between us from now on, I don't know how I'm gonna cope. I can deal with a relationship. I can deal with going back to being friends. But the way he's treating me… it's like I'm not even that. Like I'm… an associate.

Major Mass Spec beeps, as if to reassure me that at least he still loves me. "Right," I say softly, patting the machine with a forced smile. "Work."

* * *

**Gibbs**

I'm falling apart. Earlier today, I manhandled a rapist into the interrogation room mirror when he wouldn't talk. Damn mirror shattered, and god knows when Leon's gonna confront me over that. I crossed a line I shouldn't have crossed, and then I tracked down Allison Hart and gave her hell.

My gut was right. Bell's headed out to Baja, probably with backup, and I can't reach Mike Franks. Camila said he at least got my message, and if I was in time, he'll have the rest of the family safe somewhere now.

If not for Abby, I might not have remembered in time. Yet another thing I owe her. Apologies, explanations, and now this.

I was too distracted to see how she reacted to my departure from her lab, but knowing her the way I do, it hurt her.

And now it's the early hours of the morning, and I've spent the last few hours restlessly walking from room to room, looking through my case notes, drinking cup after cup of coffee and not settling on any one task. I've rarely felt this caged in.

I don't touch the bourbon in my basement. I need to be clear-headed until this thing is over. I don't wanna let my guard down for a second.

Macy is dead because she knew the truth about me, and every time I think of that, something coils tighter within my shoulders until I'm impossibly tense. I should have warned her; should have made the connection that she was in danger sooner. Her death is on my hands, and I have nowhere to hide from that knowledge.

She died because she protected me all those years ago.

And every time my thoughts run a complete circle of agonised guilt and frustration, my mind returns to Abby. I'm not ready to talk to her; not yet. There's too much to say, and I'm not nearly calm and rational enough to get into it. But all my instincts beg me to go to her, to kiss her into silence and drag her into bed, and to distract myself from this whole damn mess until we can't move any more.

I want her so badly I can hardly think, but I played that card on Saturday night. I've brushed off her attempts to talk things over twice, and there's no way she'll let me use her that way again without demanding that I talk to her first.

Not that I blame her. I'm halfway off the rails, and slipping fast.

* * *

**So my three choices here are a) to leave it as it is, and go straight to the lockdown scene the next day; b) to have Abby go to Gibbs to try to talk to him, and have her see the state he's in and give him what he needs (read: sex!); or c) to have Abby go to try to talk to him and calm him down without discussing things, because she knows he's too stressed out to have a rational conversation right then. Not sure if more sex is just being greedy, and another scene with Abby agreeing not to talk is against characterisation. I'm tempted to go with option A... I'll think about it. XD**


	6. Priorities

**Author's Note**: Thank you to everyone who took the time to give me recommendations after the last chapter. I did end up going for option A in the end - smut wouldn't have been the most believable way to go. So I jumped straight back into canon. Most of the dialogue in this chapter is lifted straight from _Patriot Down_ - there's just a little exchange at the end that's mine.

* * *

**Gibbs**

By the time McGee's finished telling me that Bell's made the trip to El Rosario, along with plenty of backup, I'm just about ready to head down there after him. Never mind that I have no jurisdictional rights in Mexico; I've still heard nothing from Mike Franks, and my gut tells me he needs help.

With Macy's death on my conscience, and my team's priority list, I have a job to do first. I just need a couple more pieces of the puzzle, and Abby is always a good source of those.

"Gibbs, come and look at this," Abby says, barely sparing me a glance as I walk in.

Her lipstick is a dark, purplish red that's always tested my power to resist her, and her pigtails are messy, sitting lower on her head than usual, as if tempting me to pull them from their ties. Despite the situation, seeing her brings back every lustful impulse I've ever wanted to direct at her; I can't resist but lean into her personal space as I pass by, on my way to the plasma screen. "Talk to me, Abbs."

She follows me, laying out the details. "The disposable cell phone that was used to call Agent Macy… I finally tracked it to a convenience store in Norfolk. I'm processing the security camera footage to find out who bought it."

She hesitates, then quietly adds, "It's… it's gonna take a while, if you wanna just relax, and…"

I hardly even remember what that means any more, and I shoot her a derisive glance. "Relax? Abbs…"

There's nothing more to say. She'll call me when she's done, and in the meantime I need to check in with Ducky and-

I'm two paces from the lab's door when it closes in front of me. Impatience welling up inside, I turn to find the glass doors to the inner lab sliding closed, and Abby standing in front of them, holding a remote control.

I walk back toward her, letting my body language do the talking. My footsteps seem loud in the sudden silence; she's muted her music, too. Abby meets my stare with an obstinate look, her jaw set determinedly.

"This is a lockdown."

God, I don't have time for this. "A what?"

"We're going to talk, Gibbs," she tells me.

Mike's unaccounted for, Bell's in the area, and god knows what Allison Hart has up her sleeve. I can't waste time here while Abby demands to know where our relationship is going. "Like hell; not now."

She yanks the remote out of my reach as I reach for it, holding her ground. "Yes! Now!"

Once she's sure I'm not going to argue, she walks across the room, re-establishing her personal space. Her next words hit me hard. "Since when did I become the kid in class that the teacher won't call on?"

Abby's pigtails and knee-high socks often lead people to assume she's younger, more childlike, than she is. I've never made that mistake; especially not over the past few days. For her to insinuate that I'm treating her like a child… it hits below the belt, and she knows it.

At the same time, I know I've handled things badly. I have no idea what to say to her. Not that she needs a response.

"The evidence in my report says that you killed Pedro Hernandez," she reminds me, her eyes wide with worry and hurt. "And you're not even willing to talk to me about it!"

"I didn't think I needed to." I thought we'd had that covered; that she'd made her decision and planned to act on it as soon as this case was over. That she's chosen to bring this up, rather than the consequences of our nights together, throws me a little.

She stares at me as if I'm speaking Russian for a second. "I owe you everything. You're _Gibbs_." A slight hesitation, as if to gather resolve, and she continues, "No one needs to know the truth about the Hernandez investigation."

_Oh, Abby…_

"I am willing to do _anything_," she says slowly, enunciating the word as if I'm one of her deaf family members or friends, out of habit, "for you. I just need you to tell me what to do."

I can almost hear the unspoken words. _Please, Gibbs. I'm lost, I'm scared and I couldn't feel any guiltier if I'd just pushed a button to blow up the planet…_ But she already knows the answer.

"No, you don't, Abbs."

She bites her lip, conflicted, and I draw things back from a personal level to a professional one, knowing it won't help, hoping it will nonetheless. "I've only ever needed you to do one thing."

"My job," she murmurs, a little dejectedly. I've needed her to do more than that; way more. But I don't need to say it, and she doesn't need to hear it. I nod my agreement, and she sighs. "But it's different this time, I mean, it has to be, right?"

_Because I'm your boss? Because we're colleagues? Friends? Lovers?_ I bite back the demands, choosing simplicity, for both our sakes. "No, it doesn't."

Before Abby can reply, her computer beeps, and we both snap out of the moment, crossing to the monitor to view the newly-enhanced picture on-screen. Recognition kicks me in the gut, and the sense of cataclysm that's been threatening to overwhelm me for days intensifies.

"Former Army Ranger Jason Dean. Hell, he's one of Bell's men."

"I bet his knife matches Agent Macy's wound," Abby says softly.

She's smart, she's beautiful and she's close to the investigation, and to me. She's in danger, but I can't be in two places at once. "You know too much, Abby."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her break into a sad, bittersweet smile. There's so much that she knows about me, the details of my past only one lethal facet of her experience. When this is all over, we're gonna need to discuss that.

"Gibbs."

I turn to face her, and the vulnerability in her expression sends another twinge of guilt through me. Damn Bell for putting us in this position... she doesn't deserve a moment of this.

"What do I do?"

"You send in the report to the task force." I watch the conflicted emotions of regret and resolve settle in her posture before adding, "All of it."

Abby sighs. "I know. You shouldn't have to tell me that, right?"

Despite the action she'll have to take, she seems calmer than she has been since she returned from Mexico. Her relief at having a course of action to follow – however unwanted it might be – is palpable, and I feel better for clearing the air a little.

I smile to reassure her, then lean in to kiss her forehead, unable to resist. Her breath catches, and she tilts her head forward against my lips, savouring the contact. The scent of her hair ignites cravings that I don't have time to satisfy, but I take a moment before pulling back.

"I'm going to Mexico," I tell her, quietly.

Anxiety flares in her eyes again, closely followed by resignation. "I know. Gibbs, be careful."

"If they wanted me dead, they wouldn't have brought the Hernandez case to you." Reaching past her, I pick up Abby's remote control from the table and hand it to her. I gotta get going, before it's too late.

She hesitates, looking me square in the eye. "This talk isn't finished."

"Didn't think for a second that it was. But, Abbs-"

Abby presses a button on the remote without breaking eye contact, and I hear the door open behind me. "I understand priorities," she tells me, only the slightest hint of accusation in her voice. "Go. Get Bell. Save Mike. Then we'll talk."

I don't often underestimate Abby, but I have over the past few days. Instead of taking advantage of the situation to demand that we talk about our feelings and where the relationship is going, she's stuck to business.

I lean in and kiss her swiftly, a split-second brush of my lips before I head for the door. As I reach it, her music begins to pulse through the lab again, almost obscuring the final words she directs at my back.

"Be safe."


	7. Just in Case

**Author's Note**: Just wanted to get this chapter written before season eight starts... Less than two weeks to go! *happy dance* I'm not sure if I'll wait to see how the season eight opener goes to finish it, or put my own spin on it now (I'm really hoping Alejandro will take Abby on a date and try to kill her, which makes for panicky!angsty!Gibbs, which makes for Gabby goodness). But what with the Stillwater angle, I don't think they'll do it. I'll see, anyway. :)

* * *

**Abby**

It's really, really hard to concentrate over the next thirty-six hours. Gibbs is in Mexico, hunting down Mike Franks and Colonel Bell, and I'm here, waiting like a wartime wife for any word that he's okay.

When he finally calls me, I just about collapse with relief. "Are you safe? Did you find Mike? Is _he_ safe?"

"Yeah, no, and no." From the tone of his voice, I know something's badly wrong.

My brain scrambles to make sense of the situation. Gibbs is okay. Thank _god._ But he hasn't found Franks, and he knows he's not okay. So what…?

"Bell's dead. And I'm sending Ducky a severed finger. I need to know as soon as possible whose it is."

"You think it's Bell's?" Confused, I sit on the edge of my workbench and try to finish a puzzle I don't have all the pieces for.

"I think it's Mike's."

Suddenly, it's hard to breathe. The idea that Mike Franks – with his cocky grin and complete disregard for authority – might be missing a finger… And oh, god, what this will do to _Gibbs_ if he's found dead… "Why?"

"Can't tell you that, Abbs. You already know too much."

That's his guilt over Agent Macy's murder talking. This whole situation is so screwed up – I don't even know what to do for the best. "Gibbs, the more information you can give me-"

"Not up for discussion, Abby. Not this time. I need you to stay at NCIS – don't even go out for Caf-Pow!. And run DNA on the finger as soon as you can."

If he has me on lockdown, it's either because he's paranoid, or because there's a threat. And I trust Gibbs' gut more than most things. "Be careful," I whisper, gripping the phone tighter as if that will transmit the hug I want to give him down the line.

"Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself, and worry about Mike. I need to go, Abbs. People to call."

He hangs up before I can tell him goodbye. This is bad… this is really bad.

* * *

**Gibbs**

By the time I get back to DC, all I want to do is crawl into bed with Abby and sleep with my arms around her for a week. Meeting the devious progeny of the man I killed has taken its toll; part of me wonders if they'd still have grown up to be unscrupulous bastards if I hadn't taken their father away from them.

That's only the smallest corner of my mind, though. Mostly, I was speaking the truth when I said I didn't regret my actions. Hernandez was scum, and so are his children. Nature or nurture? I don't know, and I don't care. All that matters is that I get out of this predicament they've woven around me, and that I protect the people I care about.

My father. Mike. My team. My girl.

Speaking of my girl… I need to see her, for more reasons than just to find out what her analysis on the finger has revealed. Now I know who my enemies are, and what their goal is, I need to do what I never got to do for Shannon and Kelly.

I need to say goodbye. Just in case.

When I walk into the lab, the guard I arranged for Abby is standing alert at the edge of the room. She glances around, more to check on the guard than because she's heard something.

"Gibbs! Have you met Darren? Darren's an armed security guard. He's recently been reassigned to guard me, though I have no idea why that might be…" She trails off as I glance over at the guard I've hired, who heads for the door at my nod.

I turn back to her, and she twists her fingers together anxiously, the confirmation of what she'd suspected sinking in. "Except when I look at you, I know exactly why."

"Abby, I'm sorry," I begin, walking towards her, but she throws up a hand as I approach, scowling.

"Gibbs! Why would you say that to me? It terrifies me when you break your own rules!" Before I can respond, she ploughs right on, offloading what's on her mind. "You see what I'm doing there? Wagging my finger to stop you from talking? It's something that Mike Franks is probably never gonna be able to do again."

Even though I expected this to be the outcome, my stomach turns at the confirmation. "It is his finger, right?"

"Right index, to be specific. Also known as the forefinger, the digitus secondus, the pointer finger and the trigger finger."

Mike's trigger finger. Not having it will seriously affect his aim with a gun, even if he does turn up alive, and we both know it. Abby wiggles her own corresponding finger, her expression serious. "That's something else Mike Franks will probably never be able to do again."

"He was alive when it was severed, though." Somehow, I manage to avoid sounding like I'm pleading for reassurance… even though in a way, I am.

Abby sighs. "Ducky thinks so. I mean, it was shot off, for whatever it's worth. Gibbs… do they have him?" Her eyes are wide and distressed, though she keeps a calm veneer over her inner feelings. "D-do they have Mike?"

I need to go and plan my next move; as much as I just want to shut myself in here with Abby for the next twenty-four hours, that won't help anyone. I hug her tightly, soaking up her warmth and praying that I'll get to do far more than just hold her when this is all over.

She catches her breath, her intuitive mind catching onto my desperation, and though her arms come up to lightly encircle my waist, she doesn't relax. "Okay, can you at least tell me who 'they' are?"

Knowing too much got Lara Macy killed. Got Shannon killed. I won't let the same thing happen to Abby. Pressing a kiss to the spot just below her ear, I take a second longer than I should to nuzzle her neck, breathing in her scent. Committing her to memory, in case…

_Go._

I follow my own silent order without looking at her, pulling out of the embrace and heading for the door without answering her question. She doesn't call out to stop me, though as I hesitate long enough to order the guard back to his post, her murmured words just reach my ears.

"I guess that's why superheroes have secret identities."


	8. Too Many Knows

**Author's Note**: Not too sure about this chapter... I needed to make sure my timeline ended up fitting in with the season premiere (off-topic, but HOW AWESOME was it?), and now it turns out I have four whole _months_ to factor in before I tie up the storyline. Not that I plan to set many chapters between seasons seven and eight. I just have one or two events to fill in. And I haven't even gotten to the end of _Rule Fifty-One _yet, so I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway. This is set the night before Ziva's ceremony. And no, there is no MAllison in this chapter. Which makes me very happy.

* * *

**Gibbs**

I haven't slept since I got back from Baja. I've got a team in place to protect my father until I can get him back here, headed up by Balboa and – as a personal favour – Fornell.

DiNozzo's preparing to fly down to Mexico on Vance's orders, to keep an eye out for Mike and keep tabs on Alejandro. McGee and Ziva know the threat is the Reynosa drug cartel, and specifically Paloma Reynosa, but not Alejandro Rivera's part in the whole mess. That, according to Vance, is need to know – and right now, with Rivera back across the border, they don't.

Ducky's gone home, accompanied by an armed security guard. Another guard – Darren, according to Abby – is on standby in the lab.

And I have nothing to do except wait for Paloma's move. Vance might have my back, but he holds my career in his hands. Even if I knew for sure which way she plans to strike – my gut tells me Stillwater is where I need to be, but I can't be certain – I have to stay in DC.

Vance's orders.

My eyes feel as though someone's just thrown grit and dust into them. I don't want to sleep, but I need to. There's no way this is gonna blow over before exhaustion knocks me on my ass.

I take the elevator down to Abby's lab and nod to Darren on my way past him. He heads for the corridor again, and I approach her desk, where she's half-heartedly dragging digital playing cards over a green screen.

"C'mon, Abbs. Let's get out of here."

She gets to her feet slowly, looking as tired as I feel. "Any word from Mike?"

I shake my head, and she steps forward for a hug, offering a comforting gesture where words won't suffice. Her warmth and familiar scent are more effective, and for a long moment I allow myself to be vulnerable. Then, conscious of the eyes on us from the doorway, I pull away.

After dismissing Darren, telling him to report for duty at Abby's place in the morning, I wait for her to gather her stuff, and then we head for the parking garage.

She keeps quiet, the shadow of Mike's disappearance darkening her usually sunny mood, until we reach the spot our cars are parked. "My place, then?"

"Leave your car. I'll drive."

She holds out a hand, her shoulders set in a challenge. "Keys. I've actually slept in the past thirty-six hours, and if my car's here, whoever it is that's threatening people close to you might think _I'm_ still in the building."

It's good logic. After a moment's hesitation, I toss my keys to her, and she slides behind the wheel with a small smile.

It's an effort not to fall asleep in the passenger seat; the motion of the vehicle, combined with my inactivity, is a compelling lullaby. I manage to stay awake by listening to Abby's voice. "I think Ziva's nervous about her ceremony tomorrow. Even though she's already passed her exam, and all."

"Means a lot to her."

She sighs. "It sucks that Tony doesn't get to be there. At least the rest of us can make up for it, though. And Mike is absolutely more important than Ziva's ceremony, so Tony's doing a good thing…"

She keeps it up until we get to her place, but as she kills the engine, silence falls. Abby lays a hand briefly over mine before opening the driver's door. "Come on."

The air outside rouses me a little, but as soon as we're locked up tight inside her apartment, I feel the hypnotic pull of sleep again. It doesn't stop me from clearing every room and then double-checking all the windows are as securely locked as the door.

As I finish testing the lock on the bathroom window, Abby reaches over to the medicine cabinet and pulls out a toothbrush, which is still in its packaging. "I'll trade you."

Her eyes are on the gun in my hand. I'm reluctant to let go of it, but God knows she'd be a steadier shot than I would right now. With a nod, I hold out the SIG, and she presses the toothbrush into my other hand.

"Thanks, Abbs."

"You know where the bedroom is," she says simply, and leaves me to prepare for bed.

When I emerge a few minutes later, she's sitting on the edge of the bed in black cotton pyjama pants and a loose tank top to match. "I'd offer you one of my funeral gowns to sleep in, but I know better than that."

She looks nervous, almost as if I'm going to insist on sleeping on the couch. In truth, I wouldn't sleep a wink without her in my arms tonight. Or with my gun on standby; speaking of which… I glance over at the nightstand to find it within easy reach of the bed.

After ensuring I can defend her if need be, I pull Abby to her feet and into my arms, inhaling deeply against her neck. Her scent is comforting, and even provokes a faint stirring of lust, though I'm too exhausted to chase that impulse right now. Abby clings to me in return, and for the few seconds before she tries to pull back, everything seems blissfully uncomplicated.

I tighten my arms around her and she laughs, the sound muffled against my shoulder. We remain that way for a few moments longer, and then I release her enough to press a kiss to her forehead. "Which side of the bed do you sleep on?"

Even though I've already spent a night in her bed, she doesn't find the question odd; last time, we were too distracted by each other's bodies to talk about it. "Whichever side you're on. But I need to brush my teeth."

I allow her to step back, and she disappears back into the hall as I strip out of my clothes. In lieu of any actual nightwear, my boxers will have to do.

Abby takes a little longer than I expect in the bathroom, and I lie staring at her ceiling, thinking about Hernandez's offspring; about Mike Franks; about my rules and whether remembering forty-four any earlier would have helped him.

Abby returns just as my half-drowsing mind conjures up an image of Paloma shattering her skull with a bullet. I tug her down into my arms, reassuring myself that she's fine by soaking up her body heat.

She's content to snuggle as close as she can, and her words are murmured against my chest. "Are you gonna tell me anything?"

"Not now, Abbs." Shannon and Kelly are dead. Lara Macy is dead. Mike is MIA. I won't add Abby to the list of people who know the true identity of the people after me – though, knowing her as I do, she'll be halfway to piecing it together anyway.

"Not knowing could get me killed as easily as knowing, you know." Then, as an afterthought, she adds, "Too many knows, even though I don't know anything."

It's true; more knowledge could keep her on her guard. It could also make her a target. And like with everything else about this insane scenario, I have no idea what to do for the best. "Do you want me to sleep, or do you want me to dose myself up of coffee and check the locks again?"

She tightens her grip, pulling the blankets tighter around us. "Okay, okay…"

I tilt up her chin to kiss her softly, and she returns it with a brief, sweet kiss of her own. "I'm so glad you're safe, Gibbs. And that you have all of your fingers."

She laces hers through mine, and we stare at them for a sombre moment, our minds returning to Mike's plight.

"Come on, Abbs. Let's get some sleep." I want a respite from all of this, even if it's just for a little while.

She turns her back to me, and I drape an arm over her waist, moulding my body to her shape. A while passes before we truly begin to relax, and then she sleepily murmurs, "So, whose turn is it to leave in the middle of the night?"

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle. Our encounters have tended to follow a pattern, so far. "Not going anywhere, Abbs."

"Promise?" she demands. "Cause if I wake up and Darren's in the bed with me, I'm not gonna be impressed."

"Ditto," I say dryly, and she gives a soft laugh, burrowing deeper under the blanket. It's the last thing I remember before exhaustion claims me.


	9. TwentyEight Minutes

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the huge delay in updating anything of consequence... November hasn't exactly been the Best Month Ever, and this one's been a tough chapter to write. It's not my best, but hopefully it's enough to get me out of my rut! Thanks for your patience. :)

* * *

**Abby**

This is the second time I've woken up with Gibbs, but it's a completely different situation. It seems like forever since I skipped out on him, wanting so badly to stay but not daring to make myself vulnerable.

This morning, the first thing I register is his warmth against my back, and I turn over to snuggle closer, thrilling at the way he sighs and pulls me close without opening his eyes.

"Time is it?" he murmurs, his lips close to my ear.

I lift my head off the pillow to look at the clock on the nightstand. "Around five."

His response is a dismissive grunt – not time to get up, yet – and he settles his arm around me a little more comfortably before becoming still.

It's impossible to feel anything but calm and peaceful right now. I'm right where I want to be, here in Gibbs' arms, and though I know that Mike's whereabouts and the taskforce report I submitted a couple of days ago are still huge problems, they seem distant right now.

As for Gibbs, he was only half awake when he spoke, or he'd be out of bed pacing the room, trying to plan his next move. I don't disturb him, knowing that this could be the last real rest he'll get before the contents of my report see him back in the interrogation room – as a suspect.

I join him in a doze for a while, waking to find him gone. Again. Seriously, _again_?

Shrugging off the covers, I get out of bed and pull open the bedroom door, taking the corner into the corridor blind and barrelling straight into Gibbs.

He instinctively steadies me, his hands warm against my upper arms. "Somewhere you need to be?"

"I thought you skipped out on…"

It's around about then that I notice his hair is wet, his chest is bare, he's freshly shaved… and he's wearing only a towel. His hands tighten on my arms as he interprets my wandering thoughts – and eyes – correctly, and I can sense his amusement.

"Still here, Abbs."

"And you took a shower without me. Not nice, Gibbs." That puts us back on equal footing – for all of two seconds. When he presses me back against the wall, the fingers of one hand twining into my hair, every coherent thought flees my brain.

Then again, when I tug at the towel around his waist, he doesn't seem all that focused on rational thought, either. His lips are hungry against mine, and he doesn't hold back.

Neither do I.

The towel falls to the ground, forgotten, as I wrap a leg around his waist, grinding against him. He trails hot kisses across my jaw, down my throat, then back again, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders, encouraging him to continue.

"You wanna shower with me?" The vibration of the words against my ear sends a thrill down my spine.

"Later. Right now, I wanna-"

The shrill beep of my alarm clock shatters the moment, and I groan, lightly tapping my forehead against his shoulder. "Ziva's ceremony."

Gibbs releases me with a resigned sigh, and I lean across the bed to switch off the alarm. "It's seven a.m., and we need to be there by nine. Darren should be here in about thirty minutes so you can go home and change clothes."

Gibbs sits on the edge of the bed, nodding, and I notice with a pang of regret that the towel is back around his waist.

"We really have the worst timing in the world, huh?" I murmur, stretching out across the mattress.

He trails a finger down my forearm, brushing the sensitive spot over my wrist. "Mmm-hmm."

"That's not helping!" Despite the protest, I can't make myself pull away, not even when he takes me by the hand and presses his lips to the same spot. It's been a week since he was last here; a whole week since the night he showed up at my door, carried me to this same bed and spent the next couple of hours driving me crazy.

I want him, _so_ much. But… "Gibbs… Don't start something you can't finish."

"Who says we can't finish it?"

I look from him to the clock, which reads _07:02_. Twenty-eight minutes until we have to face reality… First Ziva's ceremony, then back to work, and with Mike missing and my forensic report hanging over us like a grim shadow, it might be forever before we have this opportunity again.

I'd rather it was twenty-eight _hours_, but in a pinch I'll take what I can get. Gibbs' expression tells me that he's thinking the same things I am, and desperation twists around the desire within me, sparking an urgency I can't ignore.

Pulling him down to me, I kiss him hard, and he responds in kind, enfolding me in a tight embrace. By 08:24, we're breathless and sated, contented and melancholy all at once.

By 08:27, I'm letting Darren into the apartment, and Gibbs is pulling on yesterday's clothes in order to leave. There's no way Darren doesn't realise what's going on between us, but he keeps his silence, despite the odd couple we make.

"See you later," I tell Gibbs quietly, and he brushes his lips over my forehead before departing, giving me a faint smile.

Once he's gone, I can focus again; can organise my priorities and begin to plan the day ahead. First stop: the shower.

* * *

There's no sign of Gibbs when Darren and I thread our way through the crowd of people to join Ziva, McGee, Palmer, Ducky and the Director. Pushing back a twinge of anxiety, I throw my arms around Ziva, genuinely excited. "You look great! How do you feel?"

Ziva smiles. "Honestly, Abby, it is hard to say." As the doors at the other end of the room open to admit us to the auditorium, she looks around for Gibbs.

I know how she feels. Is he okay? Did the taskforce decide to act? Director Vance is here, so that can't be it, right? Swallowing my concern, I lay a hand on Ziva's shoulder. "He'll be here."

But as Ziva speaks the naturalisation oath along with other new citizens, slowly and clearly, I can't stop glancing at the two empty chairs by her side. Tony is in Mexico. What's Gibbs' excuse?


	10. Safe

**Author's Note**: Long time, no update - I know. So many WIPs, so little time! I still plan to end this around the end of _Spider and the Fly_, so I'm about three quarters of the way through now. :)

* * *

**Gibbs**

"_Gibbs?_"

Abby's anxious voice startles me out of my reverie, and I set aside my box of rules, frowning. "Upstairs."

Her footsteps ascend the stairs, and then she appears in the doorway, formally dressed and out of breath. "Where were you? You missed Ziva's ceremony, and then I saw the forensic report on your table and I thought that they'd-"

I get up from the bed, placing my hands on her shoulders to calm her. "I'm right here."

Her anxiety turns to irritation at the reassurance. "You hurt Ziva's feelings, not being there. Where were you?"

I gesture for her to sit, and she does: on the bare mattress in the master bedroom. I sleep in the guest room these days, leaving the room I shared with Shannon vacant and full of boxes from the past.

Since she died, no one has sat on or lain in this bed but me. Until now. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I'm not gonna ask her to choose a different seat. "I was intercepted."

"By who? Not the Director – he was at the ceremony. Alejandro Rivera?"

I inwardly wince at the name, keeping my expression calm. "Allison Hart."

Her guard goes up, though she tries to hide it from me. "Oh."

I don't know why she feels threatened by Hart, but unless she wants to discuss it, I'm steering clear of that conversation for now. "She isn't going to give the report to Rivera."

A brilliant smile lights up her face, and I kiss her forehead affectionately as she begins to babble. "Thank god! But wait, how is she gonna get away with that? I mean, won't Alejandro just ask for another copy? What about Vance? And-"

"She's a lawyer, Abbs. Gotta figure she knows how to get around these things."

Her eyes fill with tears. "I thought I was gonna lose you," she whispers, and I shake my head, cupping her face in my hand.

"Not going anywhere."

It's not until I say the words that they actually sink in. For the past week, I've been carrying around the burden of my impending arrest, shoved away in the corner of my mind. Now, even though Mike is still unaccounted for, everything seems a little lighter.

I'm halfway leaned in to kiss Abby when my cell rings, and I check the caller ID reluctantly. "DiNozzo. I need to take this."

She nods, and I get up from the bed, heading over to the window and bringing the cell to my ear. "Yeah. Gibbs."

"Boss, it's me. I found Mike. Or, he found me. Either way, he's okay."

At DiNozzo's words, the world seems to stabilise just a little more. I exhale hard. "That's great work, Tony. Where?"

"El Rosario. I was following Rivera through the market, and he just appeared out of nowhere and told me he'd take it from there."

"He's missing a finger." How does he expect to shoot straight?

"He says he'll pull the trigger with his thumb," Tony says, and I roll my eyes, amused despite the ridiculousness of the comment. "I'm heading after him. Just thought you'd wanna know."

"Be careful."

"I will, Boss."

He hangs up, and I turn back to Abby with a smile. "Mike's okay."

She jumps up, one of my rule scraps between her fingers, and flings her arms around my neck. "Yay! That's great! Is Tony bringing him home?"

"Soon," I say, and her smile fades a little at the evasive wording.

"I wish you'd just tell me."

I shake my head, warning her off the subject. "Abby…"

She backs off, figuratively and literally. Sitting down on the bed again, she looks down at the scrap of paper in her hand. "You write your rules down, but we're not allowed to?"

I sit beside her, shrugging. "Just in case."

She sets down rule thirty and picks up the scrap I amended just before she entered the room. "Rule thirteen: never, ever involve a lawyer." She traces a finger along the circle I drew around the words, then glances up at me. "That important, huh?"

"Something like that." If she turns the scrap over, she's gonna get the wrong idea.

But it's too late, because she does it just as the thought flits through my mind. "Rule fifty-one: sometimes, you're wrong." Suddenly fragile, she flips the paper over again. "About lawyers."

"Amongst other things." Picking up the box of rules, I sift through them and find twelve, handing it to her.

Abby gazes at the scrap of paper for a long moment. "So many years, this cost us. And in all that time, you never changed it. Now Ms. Hart comes along and gets a rule-change in the space of one morning?"

We're both weary, worried and steeped in the residual fear that I'll be arrested at any moment. And it's not over yet. We need to work together, and an argument won't help us.

I swallow the sharp retort that comes to mind and sit beside her. "If she can't suppress the report, then that lawyer is all that's keeping me from jail. If that happens and I don't involve a lawyer, I can't be with you. Yeah, she gets a rule-change. Because I'm even willing to break thirteen, if that means we can break twelve together."

Abby bites her lip and nods. "I know there's an attraction there, Gibbs. Not that I don't trust you. Even after this past week, I trust you with my life; I just-"

"Abbs." I wait until she looks at me to say it. "I'm done playing games with women like her. Been there, done that, know exactly how it ends."

She drops the rule back into the box with a rueful smile, and I drop thirteen in after it and close the lid. "I know what I want."

"I want you, too," she teases, and I kiss her softly in response. She looks me up and down with a mischievous glint in her eye, then tugs on my tie, murmuring against my lips, "You always did rock the suit-and-tie look."

I pull her upright and out of the spare room, down the hall to the room I now use as a bedroom. A flash of understanding crosses her face, though no judgment at the reason for the relocation follows it.

The tie is the first thing she pulls off, and as it drops to the floor my cell rings again. Abby rolls her eyes and sticks her hand into the inner pocket of my suit jacket. "Is this a phone in your pocket, or…?"

Shaking my head at her, amused, I check the caller ID. All light-hearted thoughts flee my head immediately.

"Tobias?"

"Gibbs." Fornell sounds harried. "Stillwater just had a little visit from a certain woman."

There's only one thing I need to know. "My dad?"

"Safe," he reassures me, and I exhale hard, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "We got a bead on them coming into town, and by the time Paloma Reynosa walked in, he was behind the counter with a bulletproof vest on and his damn shotgun out of sight. Just putting that candy you sent him into a jar, casual as you like."

"You _let him_?"

"He's _your_ father, Jethro. How do you think he reacted when we tried to get him out of sight?"

I can't help but smile, despite the circumstances. "Fair point. What happened?"

"He fired a warning shot before she even pulled her weapon. She retreated, and we got him out the back before her thugs shot up the store from the outside. They came in again, but the local PD spooked 'em. They're long gone. BOLOs are out, and we should get 'em at the border."

"Thank you." Abby turns, concerned, at the rarely-expressed sentiment.

"No need to get mushy, Gibbs. I'll put him on."

After a brief pause, a new voice speaks. "Son?"

"Dad – you okay?"

"Takes more than a cocky lady with a handgun to rattle me," Jackson Gibbs says grumpily. "She had the nerve to imply that I was just like you, when any fool would know that you're just like me."

He sounds fine, if a little more shaken than he wants me to know. "We'll get her at the border. Until we do, you're coming to live with me."

Abby grins, signs the word 'coffee' and heads downstairs, while on the other end of the line my father splutters his outrage.

"I'll do no such thing. The store's a mess. It'll take weeks to set right. Windows need boarding up, the floor needs sweeping-"

"Not up for discussion. Those agents need to get back to their jobs, and I can have people assigned to you around the clock in DC. Put Agent Fornell back on."

"But I-"

"Dad." He shuts up. "Please."


	11. Relief

**Author's Note**: Yup, it's been a while since I've updated this one. It was only gonna be five chapters or so... I fail at brevity. ;) Here's a new chapter, anyway, and thanks for your patience.

* * *

**Abby**

We head out to meet Ziva for celebratory drinks in the afternoon. Though Tony isn't there, everyone else makes it, and Gibbs apologises to Ziva for missing her ceremony. I didn't even have to kick him under the table – guess rule fifty-one is already in effect.

Gibbs gets his third phone call of the day after the second round of drinks, and I watch his body language from across the room. When I lip-read the word 'hospital', I know something's gone badly wrong. His father? Tony? Fornell? Mike?

He hangs up, and I'm on my feet before he's even halfway across the room. "What is it?"

Gibbs takes my arm and leads me back to the table, commanding everyone's attention before he speaks. "Just heard from Tony. He and Mike Franks were ambushed by the Reynosa Cartel a couple of hours ago."

For just a second, we all freeze in place, waiting for news. He doesn't keep us waiting.

"Tony's fine, just a scrape or two. Mike… he's in surgery with a couple of bullet-holes in him. If he makes it… Tony's gonna try and get him to a secure location. Hospital's the first place the cartel will look."

I hug him tightly, blinking back tears. "He's gonna be okay." I mean it as reassurance, but it comes out as more of a question.

His arms fold around me tightly, and I resist the urge to kiss his neck. As much as I'm not ashamed of what I have with Gibbs, now isn't really the time to tell the rest of the team.

I let go before he does, spinning to face everyone else. "One more drink for luck? For Tony and Mike?"

Everyone agrees, and I drag McGee over to the bar to help me carry the drinks back to our table. We're all gonna need to be a little drunker to get through the next few hours.

* * *

**Gibbs**

I'm working on another chair in my basement when I get the call from DiNozzo. Abby looks up from her forensics journal, her anxious gaze meeting mine, and she waits silently for me to answer.

"Boss, it's me. Mike's gonna make it. Soon as he comes round from the anaesthetic, I'll discharge him and get him somewhere safe."

Sighing relief, I nod over at Abby. Her answering smile is dazzling, and I can't help but return it. "Good to know. Don't bring him across the border. Cartel could have connections in Border Patrol."

"He's too banged up to fly," Tony warns me. "I'll ask him if he has any safehouses in the area."

"Don't hang around too long. Need you back here as soon as he's secure." Knowing Mike the way I do, if he sees DiNozzo as a protection detail, he'll try to give him the slip. Better he stays put where he's safe, and that Tony stays out of the line of fire.

"Will do, Boss. Watch yourself up there."

I hang up, and Abby gets to her feet. I meet her halfway across the basement floor, pulling her into a hug that she returns with almost crushing force. "Thank god," she whispers.

"They're not out of the woods yet. Still gotta get Mike out of the cartel's line of fire and get DiNozzo back here. But the immediate danger's over." I bury my face in her neck, letting most of the anxiety of the past few hours drain away.

Abby clings to me, lending her strength as well as taking the reassurance I'm offering her. For a couple of minutes, she's uncharacteristically silent, and I pull back to search her face for answers.

Her smile is a little wry. "I'd kiss you, but it'd only make someone call you with news of an exciting new catastrophe."

Amused, I prove her wrong, pressing my lips to hers gently. She closes her eyes and savours the contact, and doesn't open them again when I draw back. I kiss her again, and then again; parting her lips with mine, then tempting her for just an instant, flicking my tongue out against hers. With a soft, wordless murmur, she deepens the kiss, turning me on further with every second her lips linger against mine.

"Upstairs," I tell her, the second she breaks off.

Abby grins, taking a step backward toward the stairs. "You know, it's a shame you don't have a boat on the go at the moment. I've had so many fantasies about you pressing me back against the wood and kissing me until I can't breathe..."

She makes it two steps before I catch her, pinning her to the wall and grinding myself against her hard. Her giggle just adds an extra dimension to my need, and I kiss her over and over, tormenting us both.

"You wanna take me on the stairs, Gunny? I don't think that's the best idea, unless you want one of us to end up with a broken leg when we fall..."

I release her reluctantly, and she runs ahead of me up to the bedroom, shooting a suggestive look over her shoulder before leaving my line of sight. When I catch up to her, she's sitting on the edge of my bed, completely naked.

I have her pinned to the mattress within the space of five seconds, my hands roaming over her pale, tattooed flesh, drawing a moan from her lips when my fingers dip between her thighs.

"Guess we'll need to be really quiet once your dad gets here tomorrow," she says, and I nip her earlobe as a reprimand.

"Can we _not_ talk about my dad right now?"

"Just saying this is probably the last chance we'll have in a while to be really, really loud..." She strips off my shirt while I process that, and then rolls me over, straddling me and leaning down to kiss her way over my chest.

"You asking me to make you scream, Abby?" While she concentrates on stripping off my pants, I stroke my fingers over her clit with a feather-light touch, rewarded by her sigh.

"C'mon. You know me. I'm always really quiet..." She punctuates her last words by signing along, looking up at me with faux innocence.

I flip her over, grab her wrists and pin them to the pillow, kissing my way across her throat to the spot just below her ear; the place that makes her moan when I stroke my tongue across it. She doesn't disappoint me, arching against my body with a cry that's only a little exaggerated, playing up to the situation.

"You wanna be loud?" I growl in her ear. "Talk to me."

She laughs softly, the sound travelling through my body at lightning speed to make me even harder than I already am. "Wanna suggest a topic? The stock market? Grocery shopping? The mathematical equation for the speed of-?"

I kiss her into silence, making my point with the heated gesture. When I draw back, she gives me a slow, seductive grin. "Oh, _that_."

While I trail my lips over her skin, revisiting the places that I know excite her and finding a few new ones in the process, Abby tells me things I've only ever dreamed I'd hear from her lips. Her natural eloquence falters whenever I hit a sensitive spot, but returns after a few seconds of gasping and sighing.

I linger between her thighs until her words trail off altogether, her hips tilting up against my mouth, her fingers running through my hair. She doesn't try to restrain her cries of pleasure, and I work with what she gives me, loving every breathless moan and sharp gasp I manage to tear from her throat with my fingers and tongue.

Even if she was completely silent, I'd be able to feel her orgasm around my fingers – but she's far from quiet when it hits her, her cries of release driving me half out of my mind. By the time she's calmed down enough to open her eyes, I've drawn her into my arms again, and she purrs appreciation as I grind against her.

"Think the neighbours are gonna complain?" she asks mischievously, reaching down between us to position me at her entrance.

I growl as she lowers herself onto me, then roll her over and press myself in deeper. "Let 'em."

Abby surges up against me, and everything else falls away. My entire world narrows to her seductive laughter; the feel of her heated flesh against mine; her hands and lips exploring and teasing; the slick, easy friction where our bodies are joined... By the time I spend myself inside her with a curse, her fingernails are digging into my back, leaving deliciously painful scratches that only heighten my pleasure.

We collapse against the mattress, breathing hard, and when she catches me gazing down at her, her lips curl into a satisfied smile. "You were pretty loud yourself."

Brushing a kiss against her forehead, I laugh softly. "Your fault."

"And I still have so many tricks to try on you..."

If I wasn't so exhausted, I'd find out exactly what she means by that. "We have time, Abbs."

She nods, relief returning to her face as she remembers this morning's discussion. "We do."

After a few minutes of relaxed silence, Abby disappears into the bathroom to remove her makeup and get ready for bed. I check my cell, pleased to see that Tony hasn't called while we were distracted.

When Abby returns, she asks, "Are we gonna tell your dad about... you know? Us?"

I've already thought about this. Shaking my head, I watch her expression become a little guarded, and pull her down onto the bed beside me. "I don't want anyone to know until there's no more danger from the Reynosa Cartel. That okay?"

She shrugs, her expression conflicted. "I guess."

Cupping her face in my hands, I tell her, "Not because I'm ashamed of you, Abbs. This case... it's more complicated than you think. And they _will_ use you against me if they realise we're together."

For a second, I think she'll demand to know what's going on again. She seems to decide there's no point, though, and leans against me with a sigh. "Okay. I trust you."

Pulling her down to the bed and the covers up over us, I hold her close and hope that trust in me isn't misplaced.


End file.
